Memory

 
 Stephen kissed me in the spring,

Robin in the fall,

But Colin only looked at me

And never kissed at all.
Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest,

Robin’s lost in play,

But the kiss in Colin’s eyes

Haunts me night and day.

-Sara Teasdale, The Collected Poems
…is a wonderful place that everyone has the luxury of visiting. In memory there is joy, excitement, laughter… Remembered love can be more beautiful, a remembered journey more colorful… Memory is a place where pain and grief can be dulled into wistfulness by knowledge and experience. We can shape our memories so that the emotions our heart remembers are beautiful, no matter what they were in reality. Otherwise the power of our minds is utterly wasted…

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